


When I Was Older

by ZeroMonster



Category: DCU
Genre: A love letter to the superfam, Age Regression/De-Aging, Gen, Humor, I have to do everything myself, M/M, Magic, POV Outsider, Rebirth continuity, but only the bits that suit me, superbatweek2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-20 01:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroMonster/pseuds/ZeroMonster
Summary: Bruce and Clark get de-aged. Kon and Damian are on the case!In which ‘on the case’ looks a lot like babysitting. Except not, because everyone is still over thirteen.For the superbat week 2019. One story, seven prompts.





	1. Kryptonite

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that part in Heroes in Crisis where Bruce lies about having kryptonite in his bat-belt? I couldn't let it rest.

Kon was at the Watchtower because Tim had asked him to. Bruce had apparently, royally fucked up and Tim sent him to, _please calm Clark the fuck down_. Kon had made a face he didn't know he had the facial muscles to make -kryptonian anatomy continued to amaze - because, _yeah right!_

The thing was, railing Clark up was his mission in life, if Tim wanted him calmed down he should've called Kara. But apparently she was _busy_ , which could mean she was fucking Starfire's melting-hot brother or she was preventing the actual melting of the earth's core. 

Another way Tim's plan had backfired: Kon didn't feel particularly inclined to calm Clark down. Batman was a lot of things, one of them was Superman's best friend; Kon thinks that your best friend isn't supposed to hold kryptonite in his bat-belt and then lie to you about it. Your best friend is supposed to tell you exactly what pouch is the kryptonite stored in. Like Tim had done. Although, what did Clark thought the lead lined pouch contained, bat-candy? He takes a peek into the belt himself and okay, all the pouches are lead lined. 

"- and he is ten years old, Bruce." Clark was saying through gritted teeth.

And that, that was the reason he wasn't feeling too charitable with the caped crusader himself. Jon. It's one thing to lie about holding the only thing that weakens Superman, it's another to do it conscious that Superman has a ten year old son out there that is just as vulnerable to the stupid green rock in your back pocket.

"Jon knows the risks of the job," a snotty voice said. 

_Oh Rao_ , thought Kon. He had forgotten the anti christ was here. Didn't matter what Tim said -how he'd ripped the team a new one last time someone had insulted his demon of a baby brother, the imprint of teeth still on his cheek - the new Robin still gave him cold chills.

Before anyone could answer Damian, Bruce growled, "I would never hurt a child -" so sharp Kon was surprised no one was bleeding. "Least of all _your_ child, Clark, I can't believe you would think -"

"I don't. I know you would rather die," Clark said, softly. "But you're not infallible, Bruce, you make mistakes and - just, why lie to me? You are a father Bruce," Clark hissed. "You would kill me if -"

"I make mistakes," Bruce repeated. "This was a mistake, Clark," he said stoically. 

Everyone just sort of stood there frozen for a second. Had Batman just admitted he was wrong? Batman's cowled face said that yes, he had said that and no, he didn't recommend anyone bringing it to attention. 

"It seemed logical at the time," he mumbled so quietly that Kon had to strain to hear.

"Yeah, and we're talking about _that_ later," Clark said. Batman looked like he would rather be disemboweled. 

Kon wondered if he knew how easy he gave in to Clark. It must have been the epic warrior bond that the two shared, forged in the heat of battle between jumping in front of bullets for each other. Or maybe it was the age. 

"Fifteen minutes," said a voice. "My parents used to fight for five hours." Traci 13.

Batman grunted.

"Traci!" Kon smiled.

"Hey dude, mind if I borrow your dads for a minute?"

Kon stood there in petrified horror at the idea -Kon had _issues_ with parents who were not ma and pa Kent- as she led Batman down the Watchtower's halls and after a few seconds he came out of it enough to hear Clark taking quietly to Damian.

"I trust Batman with my life, but I'm trusting you to stop him if he ever goes too far," he said. Damian looked ready to explode arguing but Clark cut him out. "I'm not asking Damian Wayne to fight his father, I'm asking Robin stand up to Batman if necessary. You're his partner, he listens to you."

Damian closed his mouth and nodded. Clark smiled at him and stood up, clapping Robin's shoulder in farewell. Another day saved by truth, compassion and the Robin mantle, though Kon felt Clark could've given Damian his blessing to use the katana if necessary. 

"Wait for me?" Clark asked Kon. 

"Sure." He shrugged. 

When he was gone, he narrowed his eyes at Damian. He had been conspicuously quiet through it all, not like the ten year old that would bite your kneecaps off that Kon remembered. 

"Hey short stuff," Kon said, curious. "Why aren't you spitting mad?" 

Damian glared at him, but merely said, "I am accustomed to Father and Grayson's arguments." Kon had always liked Dick. "In the end they too sort it out satisfactorily," he finished. Kon caught him discreetly hiding kryptonite-batarangs back into the folds of his cape. Ri-ight. 

That's when he felt the explosion. 

It was like a pulse, a waning pressure in his head, Kon rushed to the room the blast had come from and faltered mid-flight, he had the reflexes to catch himself on his hands and knees instead of face planting. 

Kon felt the necessity then, to correct his previous statement, kryptonite was not the only thing capable of affecting supers...magic was the other thing.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Traci chanted as she leveled herself up on her elbows, residues of purple magic still clinging to her and the other two figures that laid on the floor.

“What the fuck,” Kon said.

“Kon!” she yelled. “Stay back, I don’t think -”

“Are they dead?” he asked, genuine panic raising in him. 

“What? No!”

“Father!” Damian screamed as he came into the room, and dropped to his knees next to Batman.

“Traci,” Kon said in his team’s leader voice. “What happened?”

“I got it, I got it,” she said, sliding up to Clark. He noticed it wasn’t an answer.

“What -” Damian began. 

Kon came closer and did a double take at seeing himself unconscious on the floor. 

A few months back, during a robot attack, the kind that came in like swarms, he'd been busy ripping robot-limbs methodically when he'd noticed Supergirl getting overwhelmed and had gone to the rescue but he hadn't been the only one. Kong Kenan had a mean uppercut. It had left him on the floor, dizzy and he could've sworn that he saw seven Batmans, each wearing a suit of each color of the rainbow. This was just as disorienting. 

“Clark?” he asked. No. Fucking. Way.

Clark came to, slowly. Bruce came to, at once. 

Traci stared at Kon-and-Clark and then at Damian-and-Bruce.

“Oh wow,” she said. “No missing the parentage on this one.”

Kon laughed hysterically but stopped when Clark focused on him. In retrospect, blurting, “Calm down, I’m your clone,” wasn’t as reassuring as he had intended. Give him a break, he’d been dead until recently.


	2. Possesive & Watchtower & Drinking a coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I actually have a good excuse for not updating before: I caught the cold to end all colds and I've only now resurfaced from bouts of fever enough to post this chapter. I promise I'll catch up <3

“Right,” Traci said, after she had explained the de-ageing situation in broad strokes.

She'd gotten herself dinner, which consisted of a thermos full of black, bitter coffee and a bag of Doritos Flamin Hot. She was covered in scratches and her dark hair escaped the two ponytails high on her head. 

Teenage-Bruce had not reacted better to waking up in an unfamiliar place with no recollection of how he got there than his adult counterpart would have, and Kon was still fuzzy about how Damian had calmed him down. The kid still had blood on his face. Bruce did, too. Clark was the only one relatively clean and unharmed because Kon had shielded him when Bruce had gone _berserk_. 

“May I have a cup of coffee, please?” Mini Bruce asked, dressed in standard league gym clothes, grey and black, same as Clark. 

“Uhm,” Traci said. “I’m not sure if I should - I mean, it’s just, you’re kind of little right now -”

“I’m _fifteen_ ,” Bruce said, indignant, proving just how painfully young he was. 

“Exactly,” she said.

“May _I_ have a cup of coffee?” Damian asked.

“You’re _thirteen,”_ Traci said, anguished _._

“At what age did you start drinking coffee?” Bruce asked, skeptical.

“This isn’t about me,” Traci hissed.

“Can we please _focus_ ,” Kon said, and something in his voice must have scared Traci because she gaped at him and nodded furiously.

It was just - Clark looked so lost and _young_ it made something in his chest ache. He’d tried to fight Kon at first but faltered when he discovered that Kon could match him in strength, hell, in the state he was Kon could probably overpower him. 

His huge puppy dog eyes had gone even wider with shock and Kon had started blabbing about how _it was okay, he was safe, they were family, and what the fuck was Robin doing? wasn’t his job to calm civilians down from self-induced heart strokes?_ Robin had being, obviously, defending himself from his krav maga-trained father. 

Clark had only really stopped struggling when he’d seen the Earth through the Watchtower windows, it had reflected on his eyes with amazement. Kon was trying really hard to pretend he was not staring at him from the corner of his eye, if he used superspeed he probably wouldn’t even be caught. This Clark might not even know how to fly, how weird was that? 

All this was making him feel things, it was almost like...concern. And it was weird. Kon was used to that face staring back at him in the mirror. He was never giving Clark crap again about how he’d freaked out when they’d first met, this was so bizarre. 

“- and that’s how this happened,” Traci said. 

Kon freezed, realizing he had not heard a word of it. 

“So, can you reverse it?” Bruce asked, apparently perpetually and precociously in problem-solving mode. He also was now cradling a cup of steaming coffee. 

“When did you get that?” Traci demanded.

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Just now.”

“From where?” She moaned.

Bruce pointed behind her, to where Green Lantern was in the olympic sized kitchen serving himself a cup of coffee, he noticed they were all staring at him. “What? I shouldn't have?” he asked.

Man, everyone in this HQ was acting as if having their team co-leaders de-aged was an everyday occurence worthy of no more notice that a new shipment of cookies arriving. 

The shipment of cookies was real, Kon had seen it happen. Martian Manhunter had arrived to take ten boxes to his quarters and now was back doing something that looked like shapeshifting on the floor but that was probably yoga. On the background he could hear Wonder Woman saying, “Supercomputer, play me some Ella Fitzgerald.” And now ‘cry me a river’ was muffling Hawkman yelling into his phone, “Yeah? well, tell Oliver that he and his perfect hair can go fuck themselves.”

“ _A week_?” Bruce yelled in horrified disbelief. Kon chastised himself for not listening, again.

“A week _end_ ,” Traci corrected. “It should wear off on its own.”

“Are we really in space?” Mini Clark interrupted, wonder ringin a clear note in his voice. “Are there… aliens? I am not,” he said, turning to stare fervently at Kon. “The only one?”

Kon wondered if the magic residue had affected him and baby Batman had broken his ribs during the scuffle, because he felt like it. 

“No,” he said, and had to clear his throat. “No,” he repeated more firmly. “You’re not the only one.” 

Clark beamed at him. 

“There are obvious advantages for putting your head quarters above the Earth’s atmosphere - Clark, Clark, listen to me,” Bruce was saying.

_Oh Rao_ , Kon thought, muting the sound of Damian and Traci arguing, and Bruce talking to Clark in the verbal equivalent of digging his nails in deep, _Clark can’t go home,_ _Jon would cry and Kara would kill kill us both_. And even though he was sure Lois would get a kick out it, he didn’t think going to the ex-wife was the proper protocol for a thing such as this. 

“Anyway, you guys should go home,” Traci said, reading his mind and deciding she didn’t give a shit.

“No,” Bruce said.

“What?” Traci asked.

“We should stay together, right? In case something happens and you need to contact us. It would take less time if we were in the same place.”

“I mean -”

“Come, Clark,” he said, taking Clark by the hand and dragging him away.

“Uh, okay,” poor Clark said, and he went.

"We should leave them here," Damian whispered. _When had he gotten so close?_ "Father is a liability like this." 

"What?" Kon said, stupidly.

Damian glared at him. "I know your understanding of the world is largely based on what your augmented senses can absorb and that the processing of that much input rarely reaches high levels of cognisance, but could you make an effort?" 

"Did you just call me stupid? _I knew you were still such a_ -"

"Focus, clone."

"What, you want to leave? That's cold, man, that's your father."

"So? That's yours." Damian sniffed. 

"Brother," Kon corrected, stiffly. 

"What?"

"Clark's my brother, not my father."

Damian looked at him dubiously. "Half your DNA came from him, I think that makes him your father."

"Hey! I don't go to your house and tell you your brothers are not your brothers!"

An alarm sounded. Then a computerized voice that said _, "Oh dear, I would rather you did not try that, kids."_

"Hey guys," Traci said, still looking like she'd gone ten rounds with Bizarro. "I think baby Bruce tried to hack the Supercomputer. Look, I gotta go, call me if they start looking purple and like they're about to explode."

" _What?_ " Damian shrieked.

"Where are you going?" Kon cried.

"Hell," she answered. "I promised Raven that I would help her with this thing. Everything'll be alright, I'll bring you back something pretty." She winked. "Stay awesome. Don't let Bruce drink more coffee, it'll stunt his growing." 

Kon saw her go and imagined spending a weekend with Clark’s earnestness and Bruce’s weirdly possessive everything-ness. Damian glanced at him.

"Then again," Damian said. "This… incident occurred during my active hours as Robin. It is natural that I stay to monitor its course."

Kon called Tim.

"I hate you. What do you want?" Tim answered, which was his automatic response to everyone when he’d been saddled with Young Justice missions, Gotham patrols, Wayne Enterprises and running interference so that Nightwing and Red Hood didn’t kill each other. 

“Hey, you want company?”

Tim sighed. “So, I take it everything's resolved?” he asked, dry, like someone who was too jagged as to believe something like that for a second.

“It’s a funny story.”

"Don't let Bruce say anything to upset Damian, keep them alive and fed, you should be fine," Tim said, after he explained everything.

"Humfff," Kon said. 

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure I should stay with Clark."

"Why not? He doesn't bite, Kon," Tim said, amused.

"I guess."

"It's not like -" Tim started. Kon winced because he hated that Tim knew him so well sometimes. "You're afraid he will hate you."

"..."

"Conner, he has _never_ hated you. He has no reason to, you're amazing."

"You have to say that, you're my best friend," he grumbled.

"It'll be fine, I can't patch Kara through, but I know she would say that she trusts you with this."

"Thanks Tim," Kon said, smiling.

"Uh oh, perimeter break, ETA one minute, talk to you later Kon!"

As he passed Kon, Green Arrow said into his phone, "Carter Hall was always a douchenozzle, and his muscles are too big, god have you seen his arms? And what's up with never wearing a shirt? Is he allergic?"


	3. Heat vision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapters are THE WORST

Keep them fed, Tim had said. Kon went to the kitchen and speed-prepared some burgers, which is how he learned a few things: 

  * Clark did not mind that Kon ate his burgers the exact same way as him. _("Hm, no. Why would I?" Clark had asked, amused when Kon had asked._ _"Just checking.")._
  * Damian was a vegetarian. _(Oops._ _“I have a rigorous diet due to my training” Bruce had said. “My meals frequently consist of vegetables, grains like brown rice and oatmeal, and lean protein such as chicken or fish.” There had been a beat in which Bruce had stared at the food with intensity. “I will eat his,” he'd said, picking up Damian’s burger._
  * Bruce freaking Wayne eat burgers with _cutlery_. _("I can't believe you like him," he'd said to Clark.)_



They were still sitting in the communal room of the Watchtower, Damian had gotten a salad, life was good. And then.

"Can you feel that?" Bruce asked, as he ran his fingertips feather-light over Clark's hand resting on the countertop. Kon's eyes were drawn to the movement, like watching a car crash. 

He didn't know what Bruce had read in the files Diana had patiently drawn up for him after the failed hacking attempt, but he must've seen Clark's ( _I know your understanding of the world is largely based on what your augmented senses can absorb_ ). With the motor skills of a surgeon, Bruce applied the lightest pressure possible in a touch that was anything but impersonal. 

"Ahm. _Yes_." Clark answered, red faced. 

There had been terrible moments in Kon's life: the time Luthor had tried to kill him and everyone he loved; the time he had actually _died_ ; the time when Clark didn't let him get a nipple piercing. But this was the worst.

It made Kon inhale involuntarily and choke on his hamburger. 

"Bye," Damian said in the true spirit of someone who had siblings, making a show of waving down at Kon and making sure that he knew he wouldn't be missed if he died because teenage-Bruce hadn't being fucking socialized. 

"It's different with pain," Clark said later when they'd moved to the gym, watching Cyborg spar with Flash. "It doesn't really register."

"Your cells repair the damage faster than it can affect you," Bruce said, mostly to himself. 

"Not all of it is great," Clark said with surprising bitterness. "The only time I tired playing football I broke Freddy White's ribs.'"

"Well, it's not like that boy got into football to be coddled."

"Bruce!"

Kon hadn't know that. Clark had explained to him the extent of his powers, even shared some of his experiences, like how when he’d been ten, he'd felt his stomach drop before gravity had lost its grip on him and he'd floated over the farm for so long Pa had to rescue him in the light aircraft they’d used to dust the fields. 

He didn't want to think about little Clark confused, angry, horrified that he could hurt people and _alone_ , so it was a good thing that Damian chose that moment to drop down from _somewhere_ and perch next to Bruce. 

“Is that a starfish in a Robin uniform?” Kon asked, squinting at the big jar the kid was cradling on his lap, as if his supervision was suddenly failing him. 

"I am the conqueror!" The starfish said.

“This is Jarro,” Damian said.

“I am Robin,” Jarro informed them.

“He is not Robin,” Damian countered.

“Hello dad,” Jarro said to Bruce, who paled in horror.

“You are not his dad,” Damian reassured. 

Clark started laughing. Kon decided to mute them out, for his sanity if nothing else. 

He checked Instagram (the photos where Tim was obviously third-wheeling Cassie and Amethyst where hilarious) and five minutes later - less - he looked up to find the gym on fire. Fine, not the whole gym, just the corner where Hawkwoman’s lifting machines were, he knew because they were fitted to accommodate wings. 

"What happened?!" Kon demanded. _Oh no, this is how Clark felt all the time, didn't he?_

"Instant combustion," Clark said, squirming, it sounded like a question. 

Kon felt like he should fight him on that. "Bruce, what happened?" 

"I was not looking," he answered with a straight face. Kon didn't know what he'd expected.

"You are gonna have to pay for that," Damian said.

Even the coolest spots on the sun's surface were hot enough to melt every compound that humans had ever found, created or even predicted. Kryptonians were able to metabolize that energy, concentrate it like a laser and shoot it out of their eyes. 

Fortunately, Hawkwoman's gym equipment was made of nth metal, so it ended just a little charred. 

"Maybe we should leave to the Manor," Bruce said. 

“The what?!” Clark choked.


	4. Bed sharing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love amnesty week!

Kon wasn't going to leave Clark alone in Gotham because, no offense, the city was a hellhole. Two minutes in, Clark had tried to hide his grimace, Kon had thrown an arm around his shoulders and taught him the art of turning his sense of smell off.

Also, they still couldn’t go to Metropolis, Kon had thought about it and he admitted Jon was not likely to be upset, but the only worst thing than Jon crying because his dad was a teenager was Jon enjoying it. 

Kon was glad Clark had been de-aged to a teenager, he didn't want to think about Ma and Pa's reactions if a baby-Clark had insisted in going back to his parents. Teenage-Clark was more curious about Gotham, the Wayne Manor and, terribly, Bruce Wayne himself. 

"Holy crap," Clark said. Kon smirked.

"How do you like the Addams mansion?" He asked.

"We just read The Haunting of Hill House in English class," he answered. "I just remembered, I don't know why." 

Alfred was either the most unflappable person in the entire history of humanity or he was just as insane as the rest of the bats, because he barely blinked at his previously-6'2"-now-5'2” charge's condition. If they were both a little misty eyed, no one mentioned it. 

"Hey," Kon said to Clark, when he entered the library in plaid and jeans, "where did you get that?"

"Damian told me not to ask," he answered. "Do you always dress like that? In leather jacket and ripped jeans?" 

"Yes."

Bruce Wayne dressed all in black, his clothes were so high quality they could make a kryptonian’s super senses cry in joy. Back in Gotham, he looked a little more real, a little more sharp. He’d stopped dead in the foyer, his gaze furiously tracking the hanged photographs, evidence of the existence of the batfamily. He’d disappeared for a while and Kon could hear him in the kitchen, opening and closing doors in the north wing, the living quarters. He was back with them in the library, cataloguing, no doubt, every change his kids had made to the room in the last couple of decades. 

“I found the classics collection,” Clark said as he picked up a book. 

“That is Todd’s eighteenth century porn,” Damian said from where he was sketching on the floor, a plush carpet under him. 

Kon could hear Bruce taking in a breath before he saw him slowly approach Clark, tracing the spines of books, row after row until he stopped at a collection of newspapers, neatly stacked, obviously read multiple times. 

“What is this?” Bruce asked. He selected the top issues and laid them on a desk.

“The Daily Planet,” Clark read.

“Oh, you work there,” Kon told him.

“Really?” Clark asked, surprised.

“These are articles covering different Wayne Enterprises events,” Bruce said. 

He was holding pages three to six in which Clark had written about the latest Wayne Tech security features: everything from security technology for the city’s back accounts to equipment to aide the GCPD to auto safety features that Wayne Tech would release for free. Clark picked up the front page about the latest Wayne Gala accomplishment: Gotham City Legal Protection Fund to defend the people that couldn’t afford it.

“Father collects all the published journalistic work Clark Kent writes about WE. He says he is the first reporter he has not wanted to sue,” Damian said, holding up the paper about the Martha Wayne Foundation’s work to help overstaffed orphanages and underwhelming group homes. 

Bruce snorted.

“What?” Clark asked, frowning.

“Nothing, it’s just I know reporters. Thinking that one likes you is like feeling that you’re genuinely special to that stripper,” Bruce said. 

“What?” Clark asked, echoing everyone else’s thoughts.

“You probably should write one with a less obvious positive bias,” Bruce said, as he collected the papers and returned them to their place.

“You have a weird relationship with the press,” Clark said, a strange look on his face. 

“We obviously can’t be friends in real life.” Bruce sighed. “It’s not good for our secret identities.”

“In real life,” Clark repeated, and then. “I don’t see why not, we’re _obviously_ already friends and the rest of the world hasn’t made the connection.”

Bruce aquiseted with a nod, but it was too little too late, there was now a tension between him and Clark, one Kon was really good at pretending didn’t exist. He saw Damian roll his eyes before muttering, “I am going on patrol.” Which effectively drew Bruce’s attention away.

Bruce was explicitly forbidden to go out on patrol so when Kon woke up at quarter to ass in the morning by Clark getting up, he was not surprised when his brother ended up at Bruce’s door. Who wad he kidding, of course he was surprised! _What the fuck was Clark doing?_

Alfred had prepared two guest rooms for Clark and Kon next to each other and Kon was too attuned to Clark’s presence to not notice when he abandoned his bed, even while asleep. Kon could now hear Clark shifting his weight from foot to foot, and he was surprised Bruce - Batman in training - couldn’t hear him. Except of course he could.

Kon knew the the door opened by the disturbing of the air, and Bruce said, “Come on in.”

Clark did but stopped just a couple steps into the room, Bruce exhaled softly, not really a sigh and Kon heard him pat the bed. Then, to his horror, he could hear Clark climbing in. He wanted to stop listening, he really did, but they were fifteen and high on hormones and he didn’t _trust them!_

"How can you sleep in a house so quiet?" Clark whispered.

There was a rustling of clothes, probably Bruce shrugging. “I’m used to it.”

"The bats downstairs are creeping me out." Clark confessed.

There was a beat in which Kon could practically hear all the bat-shaped issues Bruce was thinking about. "What would help?" He finally asked.

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“Clark.”

Clark sighed. “At home, I would just listen to my parents heartbeats until I fell asleep.”

Another beat. "You can listen to my heart if you want."

That was Kon’s cue to stop listening.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what Kon characterization I'm using either.  
> Title from when I was older by billie eilish.


End file.
